


No, Really

by trascendenza



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-14
Updated: 2007-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"She just walked right past me.  Like I didn't even exist!"</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	No, Really

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the porn battle (third), prompt: none ([mirror](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/286546.html?thread=12024914#t12024914)). Occurs during the drinking-fest Miles and Julian have after Julian runs into the valedictorian of his class.

"She just walked right past me. Like I didn't even exist!"

Miles shifted his head in Julian's lap so that he was looking up at the other man's very sour-expressioned face.

"She's not worth thinking about." He poked Julian in the chest. "Remember?"

Julian sighed dramatically, resting a hand on Miles's curls. "I can't help it." He looked down, eyes wide and puppy-dog dejected. "I've never felt so unimportant in all of my life."

"But you're important." Miles raised a hand to Julian's face to steady himself—the damn thing wouldn't stop wavering. "I think."

"To whom, Chief?"

"Well." He traced a finger over Julian's cheek like he could find the answer there. There was a name rattling around somewhere in his brain, he knew it…

"Just as I suspected." And, going against all realm of possibility, Julian's face fell even further. His lips, usually so quick to smile and tease Miles, sunk into a mournful frown, and the spark that lit up his brown eyes extinguished.

"Oh, hell. Ask me again, Julian."

"You've answered my question quite satisfactorily, thank you."

Miles gripped tighter, catching his fingers in Julian's hair. Soft, he noted. "Ask me again, damn you."

Julian blinked at him, licking his lips and letting his face get pulled down just a bit more. His question came out barely above a whisper. "To whom, Miles?"

"Me," Miles said hotly, meeting Julian halfway for a kiss that would explain better than talking could. After some awkward fumbling and irritated re-adjusting, he was sitting across Julian and pinned him back against the couch. His hands found their way under the already-untucked shirt, fingers skimming burning skin, pausing briefly over the telling pound of Julian's rapid-fire heartbeat. He bit and tasted his way from neck to chest, surprised that Julian didn't taste clean or fresh—he was salty, a little tangy.

"You're important, Julian," he muttered, going lower and counting ribs with his tongue. "You are." Julian's loud gasps were his only answer as he let his hand roam further, slipping under the belt line and grasping the only foolproof way to shut Julian up that he'd encountered to date.

"Let me show you," Miles said, hoarse now. The long sleepless nights of thinking about this hadn't prepared him for the reality. He ripped Julian's pants when he couldn't figure out how to get them off (goddamn whiskey fingers).

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he said, and despite the alcoholic haze, he was completely cognizant that there was no one else he'd ever do this for other than Julian.

"Miles…" Julian managed to get out, his adam's apple bobbing rapidly, one of his hands coming up, fingers tangling in Miles's hair.

That voice—that _voice_—did him in and he closed down a hand around Julian before lowering his mouth to follow, a bit hesitant at first to take to the shape and rhythm of what he was doing, but Julian's inarticulate groans and trembling thighs took away his ability to think about it. He just sank into the motion, give and take, tightening, teasing, holding back, responding to Julian's signals even before they were clear, anticipating and meeting need so that the pace built into a slick and hot tempo. Soon his tongue was reaching for the taste, the sharp and salt.

"Miles… Miles, I—"

Instead of easing up at Julian's pained tone, he took his hand away and braced both against Julian's hips, losing himself completely to the drive that told him he couldn't let up until that tone was transformed into something else—oh, _Jesus_—and Julian was shuddering underneath him, tremors growing, fingernails imprinting Miles's scalp, bucking, shuddering, and then—_yes_—screaming, that voice cracking open and spilling want and need and it was everything he'd ever wanted, the taste and sound and feel flooding him.

When he could breathe again, he rolled onto his side, licking at his lips with a contented smile. After he'd taken a few deep gulps of air, he got his feet under him and flopped onto the couch next to Julian who looked just like a jelly-limbed Itankan cephalopod.

Julian roused just a bit when the couch moved and dropped his head into the crook of Miles's shoulder with a chuckle.

"I believe you, Chief."


End file.
